


I walk through walls into your heart

by wingsdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Possession, Astral Projection, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Castiel goes into Dean's mind, Episode: s14e09 Coda, Episode: s14e09 The Spear, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, Human Jack Kline, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Michael!Dean, POV Castiel, Pining, Possession, Post-Episode: s14e09 The Spear, Purgatory Flashback, Rescue Missions, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Witchcraft, the Empty (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsdestiel/pseuds/wingsdestiel
Summary: Dean is trapped in his own mind with Michael, so Castiel goes on a rescue mission.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out sadder (not to mention longer) than I originally intended, but the ending is slightly hopeful.
> 
> Slight canon divergence - Michael never gets to snap his fingers at the end of 14x09, so his monsters don't attack Kansas City. Title is from "I Don't Mind" by Joseph.

By some miracle, the angel handcuffs worked. This was a temporary solution, one they had formulated just before they charged into that high rise in Kansas City. As soon as Michael snapped the spear, Dean broke through for just a moment, long enough to hold out his wrists for Sam to snap the cuffs on before Michael regained control. With Michael’s powers dampened, Castiel was able to put him to sleep inside his vessel – inside Dean. It had taken a dangerous amount of grace, but Dean was safe.

The downside to this plan was that Dean was also unconscious, probably buried in some dark corner of his own mind. Michael had dragged Dean down with him. 

They carried him to the car. On the way out of the parking garage, Sam called Rowena on speaker phone. Her shrill, somewhat irritated voice on the other end of the phone seemed light years away to Cas, though he still caught most of what she said. “If only you could go a week without one of you being in mortal danger. You’re lucky I’ve grown fond of you, Samuel. I do have other business to attend to aside from catering to your every whim.”

Protecting Dean was not a whim. Cas felt as though the very fabric of reality would unravel if anything happened to him. Well, anything _else_. Still, Rowena agreed to show up, as she usually did, going on about some sort of favor being owed to her. Castiel could think of very few things he wouldn’t give to save Dean, so he for one had no objections to this deal. There was hesitation in Sam’s voice when he agreed, but also the kind of raw desperation tha Cas knew all too well. If anyone else could understand what losing Dean felt like, it was Sam.

During the impossibly long, tense trip back to the bunker, Sam drove, with Jack in the passenger seat. Cas sat in the back seat with Dean’s head in his lap. He monitored Dean’s breathing for signs of distress, but it remained slow and even. No one spoke, except to ask how far they were from Lebanon. 

The normally four hour drive back to the bunker took a little over three hours, thanks to Sam’s reckless speeding. As soon as the car was in park, Cas got out and carefully lifted Dean from the back seat. He could feel his grace straining to assist, but so much had drained away just from pushing Michael down that he found himself lifting Dean primarily through his own physical effort. Jack spoke up for the first time in two hours. “Garth,” he said blankly. They had forgotten.

Sam muttered “Shit,” under his breath, and rushed to the trunk to unlock it. He reached into the trunk and checked for a pulse. From where Cas stood, he couldn’t see into the trunk, but Sam sighed in relief. “He’s okay,” he said to Jack, then repeated it as if to reassure himself. “He’s okay. I think there’s something in one of the store rooms I can give him to keep him asleep for now. We’ll figure out how to cure him later.”

Cas nodded. Of course they would help Garth. But Dean was their first priority.

Sam tossed the bunker keys to Jack, who ran ahead of Cas to unlock and open the door. Jack’s eyes were wide as he looked back at Dean’s pale face. “He’s okay, Jack,” Cas said firmly.

Cas worked mechanically, first carrying Dean down the stairs and through the winding corridors to the dungeon. He half-kicked a chair into the center of the room, and placed Dean down in it. Dean’s shoulders slumped, so Cas leaned him back, letting his head fall forward to his chest. Next, Cas checked that the handcuffs were still secure. He was half waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the handcuffs to melt off Dean’s wrists like butter, giving way to Michael’s disdainful laugh. But still they held.

Castiel remembered the last time Dean was here, his arms and legs bound to this very chair, his eyes black and cold.

“What can I do?” Jack had followed into the dungeon, still looking terrified.

Cas paused for a moment to catch his breath. “Cable ties,” he said gravely, gesturing to a box on the floor to his left. Jack rummaged through the box and returned to Cas’ side with a handful of white cable ties. Cas took them reluctantly, and said, “Holy oil, in the archive room.” Jack took off down the hallway, and Cas set his jaw, preparing for the part of this task he dreaded most. 

He stood behind Dean (mostly for his own protection, in case Michael were to wake up) and maneuvered Dean’s right wrist so that it was flush with the arm of the chair. He looped the cable tie around Dean’s wrist, just below the handcuffs, then around the arm of the chair, and threaded the end through. He gritted his teeth as he tugged until there was no slack. He repeated the action with Dean’s other wrist, then knelt to fasten his ankles to the chair as well. It did occur to him how futile this seemed, binding an archangel’s wrists to a chair. Even surrounding Michael in a circle of holy fire, the next order of business, would not necessarily harm him, merely dissuade him. But Cas knew they had to take every possible precaution – anything that could slow Michael down, even for a split second, could only help them.

This was not the first time Dean had to be restrained as a safety measure – far from it – and Cas knew he would understand. Still, there was something so crude about the cable ties, especially when he knew Dean was in there, probably drowning in pain and fear. Cas rose to his feet and placed two fingers against Dean’s neck to find a rapid, pounding pulse. Cas gently lifted one of Dean’s eyelids, terrified that he would see grace burning beneath. Instead he saw a dilated pupil, so large that it almost filled the entire iris. The other eye was the same. Cas lifted his hand to Dean’s temple and tried to get into Dean’s mind, to catch a glimpse of him, or even Michael. But he only found a dark, impenetrable fog. Cas couldn’t tell if it was due to Michael, or his own drained grace. 

When Jack returned with the holy oil, Cas made a wide circle around Dean. Sam entered the room. “Garth is secure,” he said. “And he should stay down for at least a few hours.” He looked down at the ring of holy oil and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. “We good?” Sam waited for Cas and Jack to nod before flicking the lighter open. “Everyone step back.”

Sam lit the holy oil, and the flames rushed several feet into the air for a second, then settled to a few inches high.

“What now?” said Jack.

“We wait for Rowena,” Cas said. “And hope Michael doesn’t wake up.” 

Sam turned to Jack and said, “C’mon, you gotta eat something.” Jack sighed and started down the hall. Sam followed, pausing in the doorway to give Cas a solemn nod. Especially in moments like this, Cas felt incredibly grateful that Sam still trusted him, after everything. There had been plenty of dishonesty and deceit to go around (in all directions) between Sam, Dean and himself over the years. When Sam forgave Dean for his mistakes, it seemed like a reflex, an obligation, one he did not owe to Cas in the same way.

Sam and Jack’s footsteps and voices echoed down the hallway as they headed for the kitchen, Jack insisting that he wasn’t hungry. “You need food,” Sam said. “It’s been a long day already…” Sam’s voice faded away to a muffled hum.

In a private conversation months ago, Cas had – somewhat selfishly, he thought in retrospect – expressed his guilt to Sam for betraying their trust so many times. “You always thought you were doing the right thing,” Sam had said. “I know you didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

And now Cas was here again, lying by omission, hiding his deal with the Empty. Worse, Jack had been dragged into the lie. _Another rite of passage around here,_ Cas thought bitterly, _keeping secrets from everyone you love._

When they returned a few minutes later, Jack was reluctantly chewing on a protein bar. Cas still stood in the same spot, staring grimly into the ring of holy fire. Sam dragged in a small table and some extra chairs, they all sat down to wait.

Forty minutes later, Rowena arrived, and Sam went up to let her in. 

“Before you shout,” Rowena said, coming into the dungeon with Sam, “I am quite aware that this is urgent, but I had to gather a few things.”

“We have ingredients here,” Cas said bitterly. “This bunker houses perhaps the most exhaustive collection of – ”

Rowena cut him off. “Did you have the preserved temporal lobe of a djinn lying around?” She produced a jar from her bag and held it up to the light. It contained a sickly-gray blob submerged in chunky, milky liquid.

Jack gagged and turned away. Sam, who was far more accustomed to the organs and bodily fluids of monsters, stepped forward for a closer look, his expression an odd combination of interest and disgust. Cas knew that this wouldn’t have been an easy item to acquire, but found that he didn’t particularly care to know the details. 

“Thought not,” said Rowena, and set the jar down on the table. “In any case, I’m here now. I will, however, need one more thing. I’ll need... ” She paused, looking directly at Castiel. “... a wee bit of angel grace.”

Jack was still eyeing the jar with trepidation. “Is that safe?” He looked up at Cas. “To give her grace, I mean.”

Cas sighed. “It shouldn’t be a problem, so long as it’s not a significant amount.”

Jack seemed unconvinced. “What about Michael?” he said, jerking his head toward Dean. “Take some from him.”

“Inadvisable, dear,” Rowena said. “Any tampering with Michael’s grace could bring him back to the surface.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue again, but Cas said, “It’ll be fine, Jack,” as calmly as he could. Deep down, though, he wasn’t too sure. He had used so much of his grace already, just trying to keep Michael down. But if he could help Dean, he would gladly give up every drop of grace he had left.

“Wait a second,” Sam said. “What exactly is the plan here? You do the spell, he’s out? That’s it?”

“Not quite,” she said, and looked over at the unconscious Dean. “Even with those restraints, an archangel is much too powerful to remove with a single spell. I’ll need Dean’s help.”

“Dean’s help?” said Jack.

“Yes,” she said, and this time pulled a dark blue book from her bag, setting it on the table next to the jar. “I have a spell here that will allow you to enter Dean’s mind for a brief time. I don’t know where Michael has him locked away, but if you manage to find him, there’s a _chance _–” she looked around at all of them as she emphasized the word – “that you can bring him back to a conscious state without Michael’s knowledge. If you get that far, I can perform an additional spell to assist Dean with expelling him. He will need to do most of the work. I can only temporarily prevent Michael from taking control.”__

____

____

They all looked at each other rather morosely, the uncertainty in the room palpable. “Well for goodness sakes, he hasn’t died yet,” Rowena said. “A little confidence, please.”

Sam cleared his throat. “So, who’s going in?”

“I will,” Cas said. Sam gave him a questioning look, perhaps due to how quickly he had volunteered. “Maybe there are parts of his mind,” Cas said, “that Dean would rather his brother not see. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Sam. “I’m sure Dean would prefer it if _no one _saw his thoughts, but he’s let you in before, so…” He trailed off, and shrugged.__

__

__“You’ve been in his mind before?” Rowena asked, an amused curiosity in her tone that Cas did not appreciate._ _

____

____

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve had to use my grace to enter his mind in the past. To see his memories. I did try today, but I can’t get past this… fog.”

“If your grace can’t get past it,” said Jack, “then how do you know a spell can?”

“We don’t,” said Sam. “But it’s all we got.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my centuries,” Rowena said, “It’s that everyone underestimates witchcraft.” She paused to look at Castiel. “Especially angels. They cannot fathom that anything or anyone aside from their own species could possibly outwit them.”

“Believe me,” said Cas, “I’ve experienced your power firsthand.” He remembered her attack dog spell and its aftermath vividly.

Rowena smirked at that. “Ah, yes. Well, we’re beyond all that now, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Cas replied, not without sarcasm.

Rowena pulled some more materials out of her bag and began to set up a workspace on the table. Everyone was sweating now – Dean included, Cas could see – as the holy fire warmed the room.

“Right. A bit of his hair,” Rowena said, gesturing at Dean. “We might have to put out the holy fire, unless one of you would like to walk through it.”

“Um,” Sam said awkwardly. “I have it. Give me a minute.” He left the room, and Cas, Jack, and Rowena all looked at each other.

Sam returned with a small satchel. “I, uh, know it’s a little weird. But I thought it would be good to have, you know? Just in case.”

Cas wondered whether or not the hair had been acquired with Dean’s knowledge, but again, he decided it wasn’t important at the moment. Sam handed the satchel to Rowena, who extracted a few of the light brown hairs and placed them into her bowl. Next, she opened the jar containing the djinn brains and, to Jack’s obvious horror, put her bare hand inside to scoop the slimy mass out and into the bowl. “Now,” she said, flicking the excess liquid off her fingers. “The grace.” She handed Cas an empty vial.

Cas took out his angel blade and rolled up his sleeves. He handed the vial to Sam, who, without instruction, held it up against Cas’ forearm as he made a shallow cut. Rowena watched, and said, “That will do,” when the vial was half full. Sam capped it and handed it back to her while Cas waved a hand over the wound, sealing it off. He felt a brief wave of exhaustion pass over him, but did his best to maintain a neutral expression.

Rowena emptied the vial of grace into her bowl, and a wisp of white smoke spiraled into the air. “Have a seat,” she said to Cas, and gestured to one of the chairs Sam had dragged in earlier. “You might feel a bit woozy, and you may black out once your consciousness passes into Dean’s mind.”

“That sounds pleasant,” Cas remarked, earning a slight smirk from Sam. He sat down as instructed, and closed his eyes.

Rowena began the verbal part of the spell, and Cas did his best to focus on relaxing rather than translating the Latin. A few Enochian words registered without any conscious effort, however, roughly translating to “merge” and “dive.” These words aided his concentration somewhat, and he imagined – or perhaps felt? – himself descending into a body of water, Dean’s mind enveloping his.


	2. Chapter 2

When Castiel opened his eyes, he was floating on his back. The sky was cloudless, clear, and blue. The sun overhead told him it must be about midday. Cas righted himself in the water, kicking his feet, and made a full turn to get his bearings. He was in a lake, the shores on all sides lined with evergreens. He swam for the closest bank, and pulled himself up onto the rocky shore. Once he rose from the water, he found that his clothes had dried instantly. He checked the inside of his trenchcoat. He still had his angel blade, but clearly the rules of reality were different here. Even if he came across Michael in a physical form, his blade might not be effective. He looked around, then trudged into the woods.

He was unsure whether he should call out for Dean or keep quiet. He walked for a while, weaving in between the trees, listening intently for movement and frequently looking over his shoulder. He wondered if Michael could conceal himself within the landscape of Dean’s mind. Would Michael already know that he was here?

Castiel didn’t know how long he had been walking when a glint of metal in the distance caught his eye. He continued towards it, and the trees grew more and more sparse as he approached a clearing. Cautiously, he stepped to the edge of the treeline and peered around the mossy trunk of a cedar. In the center of the clearing, he saw the Impala. And there was Dean, tinkering with something under the hood.

“Dean?” Cas said, and kept his hand on his angel blade, just in case. He stepped into the clearing.

Dean turned around and smiled, looking genuinely happy to see him. He didn’t seem to question Cas’ arrival. Cas knew this theoretically could be Michael, but his instinct said it was the real Dean. He let go of his weapon and walked to the middle of the clearing.

“Heya, Cas,” he said, then turned back to the car. “She won’t start. I checked everything I could think of. Think you can help me out? Give her a jump start?”

“Of course, Dean. But first I need to speak with you. It’s important.”

Dean frowned. He let the hood slam shut, then turned towards Cas and leaned back against the car, folding his arms. “What’s up?”

Cas didn’t know where to begin. He wasn’t sure which version of Dean this was, or if he had any clue what was going on. What could he say that wouldn’t cause him to panic? He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean seemed surprised, hesitated for a moment, then put his hand on top of Cas’, as if to reassure him. As if Cas was the one who needed reassurance. “What is it, Cas?”

Castiel felt a flutter in his chest, a strange flip in his gut, as soon as Dean had placed his hand on his. It seemed to him that this wasn’t something Dean was likely to do so freely, at least not in the real world. For a moment Cas felt that this must be Michael after all, disguised as Dean, toying with him. But Dean just looked at Cas intently, green eyes wide with concern, his palm still cupped around Cas’ hand.

“I’m going to tell you something,” said Cas, “and it might not make sense, but you have to trust me.”

Dean nodded.

Cas released Dean’s shoulder with a sigh. “This…” he said, and gestured to the clearing. “It’s not real. Wherever we are, it’s just in your mind.”

He shook his head and smiled like he thought Cas might be playing a joke. “We’re in Oregon.”

He wished he could be more gentle with Dean, but he wasn’t sure how much time they had. “What year is it?” he said, hoping this would be a quick way to prove his point.

Dean looked around, as though he would find the answer somewhere in the clearing. “I – I don’t know.”

“This is made up, Dean. Michael – ”

“Michael?” Dean said, alarmed. “He’s in the cage.”

“No,” Cas said as patiently as he could. Dean was already struggling to keep up, so he certainly didn’t want to confuse him any further by explaining that this Michael was from another world. “Dean, he possessed you. Whatever this is, it’s something he created to keep you locked away in your own mind. Or maybe you did it to protect yourself. Either way, it’s not real.”

Dean just shook his head again.

Cas looked around for some way to prove that he was right, that he was telling the truth. “Look,” he said, and gestured all around them. “There’s no road anywhere. How did you get here in your car? There’s no way through the trees.” It was true, the clearing was surrounded on all sides by trees, with no path for a car to fit between them.

This seemed to sink in with Dean. He started to say something, then closed his mouth in defeat. “So if we’re in my head, then... are you real?” he finally said. “Or are you… me?”

“I’m real,” Cas said, putting as much earnestness as he could into the words. “We used a spell so I could get to you, but Dean, we don’t have a lot of time. I have to get you back to your body, so you can expel Michael. You’re going to have to fight him.”

Dean’s voice shook. “How do I get back? I don’t even – Is Sam okay?” he asked suddenly.

“He’s fine,” Cas said. “And Jack is fine.”

Cas was confused by Dean’s startled expression. “ _Jack! _I forgot him, how did I forget him?” He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit that only cemented Cas’ belief that this was, in fact, the real Dean.__

____

____

“It’s okay,” Cas said. “You’re just confused.”

“I remember now. Mom was back, there was that other world, Apocalypse World, and – ” he stopped to look up at Cas. “You died.”

Cas’ heart lurched at the grief in Dean’s voice. “I came back,” he said, then added, “Again.”

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah, Jack brought you back.”

They went over the timeline together – Jack, Lucifer, all of it. It was difficult for Cas to watch Dean’s expressions as remembered Sam getting dragged away by vampires in Apocalypse World, the horrible things Michael did in his body, Jack sick and dying. Cas couldn’t imagine processing so much forgotten information in the span of a minute, especially as traumatic as it all was. He was impressed at how well Dean seemed to be handling it. 

“I – I think I’m with you now,” Dean said. “I remember. We went to Kansas City, and Michael destroyed the spear.”

“Yes, but you got control. We used the handcuffs. The plan worked. You’re safe, Michael is just… still inside you, somewhere.”

“I don’t know how to wake up.” He looked at Cas, clearly hoping for direction.

In truth, Cas had no idea what to do next. He went with his instinct. “Do you have a weapon?”

Dean walked around to the trunk of the Impala and opened it. The usual weapons cache was absent, the trunk empty. “Damn it,” Dean muttered, and slammed it shut. “Nothing,” he said.

“It’s okay, I have my angel blade.” Again, he didn’t know for a fact that it would work if they came upon a threat, but he was desperate to provide Dean with some sort of reassurance, to keep him calm. “Think of the bunker. You’re there now. Your body, I mean.”

“I’m in the bunker? With you, and Sam, and Jack? But Michael – ”

“We have him pushed down, for now. And he can’t get to us.” Cas felt a twinge of guilt, because he knew that wasn’t entirely true. The handcuffs and holy fire were not foolproof, and if Michael woke up, he _could _hurt them. But Dean didn’t need to know that. “Let’s start walking.”__

____

____

“Okay,” Dean said. “Yeah, let’s walk.” It was obvious that he was still processing, but in typical Dean fashion, he needed to do something. They started off towards the treeline, the opposite side from where Cas had entered the clearing. “Don’t get lost,” Dean added. “I don’t even know where we are.”

They walked together through the seemingly endless forest, Cas following a few feet behind Dean with his angel blade drawn. The only sound was their shoes crunching in the dirt. Cas found that he had no real sense of time here – it seemed strangely compressed. He could only hope they weren’t too late.

Eventually, they reached another clearing. Cas was afraid it might be the same one as before, but instead of the Impala, the center of this clearing held something that made them both stop in their tracks. 

A rift. The same pulsing, glowing fissure in reality that had led to and from the other world. 

“Well,” Dean said, “that’s not good. I do _not _wanna go back to that place.”__

____

____

Cas looked carefully at the rift. “Maybe it leads somewhere else,” he offered. “This place isn’t necessarily…” He trailed off, looking for the right word. “Literal.”

“Are you saying my mind makes no sense?” Dean said with a mirthless smirk. “Figures.”

“I’m saying it might not be an actual rift. Maybe it’s standing in for something else. Think about what the rift was, what it did.”

Dean looked at him blankly.

“A doorway, Dean. I think it’s a doorway.”

They both stared at it for a moment, weighing their options. 

“Even if it did take us to Apocalypse World,” Cas posited, “it couldn’t be the real thing. We’re in your mind. It would just be your interpretation, a memory.”

“Okay. If you wanna try it, we’ll try it.”

Cas had expected more of an argument. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have a better idea. If we keep walking, this could just go on forever. I have no idea where we are, and you said we don’t have a lot of time. So let’s do it.”

Cas nodded. “Would you like me to go first?”

“Let’s go together. I don’t want to get split up if it seals.”

“Good point.” Cas held out his hand. Dean took it without hesitation. 

They had held hands before, but only for very brief moments, and only when helping one another up, or some other circumstance where it had been necessary. Now, Cas had enough time to appreciate the weight and warmth of Dean’s hand in his. Perhaps he idled too long, however, because Dean was looking at him as though waiting for a signal to proceed.

“Ready?” Dean said.

Cas nodded. They stepped forward together, through the rift.

***

Cas’ first thought was that the rift had indeed taken them to Apocalypse World, but after a moment he realized where they really were. He let go of Dean’s hand.

“Purgatory?” Dean said.

“It’s not real,” Cas said again. “It’s a memory.” When he looked around at their immediate surroundings, he found them particularly familiar – the dense thicket, the rocky clearing with a lopsided boulder and a cluster of tall ferns.

“We camped here,” Dean said.

Both of them jumped at the sound of a twig snapping. Footsteps. Approaching voices. Neither of them moved. As the voices grew nearer, Cas easily identified Benny’s deep drawl. “If you would quit arguin’ maybe I could think.”

Sure enough, Benny emerged from behind a tree, followed by Dean and Cas himself. It was strange, seeing another version of themselves, and Cas pondered the logistics. Was this another part of Dean, trapped in a separate part of his mind? Or just a fragmented memory?

It soon became clear that their memory-selves couldn’t see them; Benny looked right through them both and kept walking. As the other Dean and Cas came closer, Cas could see that they were filthy and exhausted. Even so, Dean looked noticeably younger.

Benny muttered to himself and leaned against a tree, machete in hand. “We got a ways to go,” he said. “But I think we should stay here and rest a while.”

Past Dean shook his head. “I’m fine to keep going.”

Past Cas turned to face him. “He’s right, Dean. You haven’t slept, and you’re becoming irritable.”

“I’m not irritable, I’m pissed. I’m trying to get us home, and I have to worry about you running off.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your call.”

Benny rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

Cas looked at his own Dean, who was watching the memory unfold with a stony expression. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

A plain wooden door appeared to their left, as though summoned by Dean’s desire to leave. They both stared at it for a moment, Cas feeling cautiously optimistic. Dean said “Huh,” clearly just as surprised as Cas had been. Maybe Dean had more control over the landscape of his mind than either of them previously realized.

Dean took Cas’ hand again, and used his other hand to turn the doorknob. The door swung open, and they were pulled through, leaving Benny and their past selves behind.

***

Cas could still feel Dean’s hand in his, but now it was pitch black. He heard Dean’s voice: “You good?”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Neither one of them let go, which was somewhat of a relief to Cas. Dean’s hand was like an anchor; without it, Cas was afraid he would dissolve into the nothingness that surrounded them. It was almost like the Empty, he thought with dread. Only there, he had been able to see his hand in front of his face.

“Should we walk?” Dean said eventually.

“I don’t see any other options.”

Together, they stepped forward. As though their movement had flipped a switch, their surroundings were suddenly illuminated by fluorescent lights. They were in what looked like a hospital, in a hallway lined with commercial-grade doors.

“Great,” Dean said. “More doors.” Cas could tell he was losing hope.

“Dean, you made that other door appear back there. You wanted to leave, and suddenly there was a way out. Maybe it’s the same for getting back to your body. If you focus – ”

“Yeah, and then what? I fight Michael? What happens when he wins, and shoves me down so fat that I can never come back?”

“Rowena is going to help you. You _can _win.”__

____

____

Dean shook his head. “Maybe this is it, Cas. Maybe after everything, after all you did for us and everyone we lost, this is just how it’s gonna be. Me and Michael, just like he wanted. Even if it isn’t the same version of him.”

“ _No _.” It came out more forceful than Cas intended, and even Dean seemed taken aback by his tone. “You’re going to fight. For Sam, and for Jack, and for me. I will _not _let you stay here.”____

_____ _

_____ _

Cas heard Dean’s words from purgatory echoed within his own: _I am not leaving here without you. Understand? ___

____

____

“If you lose,” Cas continued, “we will find another way. But I’m not giving up, and neither are you.”

Dean looked at Cas in a way he hadn’t for a long time, like he could see what he really was, beyond the human form he knew so well. There was no fear in Dean’s eyes, just recognition of Castiel’s place in the order of the universe. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Okay,” said Cas. “You have to find a way out. You want to go to the bunker, back to your body. Concentrate on going there.”

Dean closed his eyes. It was silent except for the electric hum of the fluorescent lights.

After a moment, water began to leak out from underneath the door closest to them. And at first, Cas felt relieved that something, anything, had happened. But then he remembered something Dean had said. _Michael conned me. Kept me trapped and drowning inside my own body. ___

____

____

The color drained from Dean’s face, but he kept his eyes shut. “Cas, he’s… he’s waking up.” The water crept up around the doorframe, now escaping from the gaps on either side as well as underneath.

“I know,” Cas said, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Focus. Find the way out.”

Several other doors began to leak. Water rushed into the hall. There was a crackling sound overhead, and Dean’s own voice surrounded them, mingling with static as though coming from an intercom. “You’re too weak,” it said. 

Michael.

An alarm began to sound, and they were plunged back into darkness. Cas desperately reached out for Dean, blindy grasping his shirt, his shoes slushing through the rapidly rising water. “We have to go. Now.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep you, too, Castiel,” Michael said with Dean’s voice. “I bet Dean would like that. It wouldn’t get so lonely in here.”

“Let us go, you son of a bitch!” Dean shouted.

A green glow materialized ahead: an exit sign. Cas pulled at Dean’s shirt and started towards it. The water was now up to their ankles. “What if it’s a trap?” Dean said, shouting to be heard over the blaring alarm and rushing water. 

Cas didn’t answer. They didn’t have a choice. He grabbed Dean by the arm and waded toward the sign. He could barely make out the outline of a door at the end of the hallway, faintly illuminated by the sign above it. He had the fleeting, selfish thought that if this was a trap, if Michael had fabricated this as a way to capture the both of them, it wouldn’t be so bad to be locked away with Dean. It would certainly be better than losing him.

But of course, there was Sam, and Jack, and the rest of the world that would be in danger if Michael escaped in Dean’s body. So Cas prayed that this really was a way out. They reached the door, waist-deep in water, and Cas took Dean’s hand and held it against the bar. “You _fight _, Dean,” he said, and pushed.__


	3. Chapter 3

Cas took a gasping breath and sat up. He was back in the dungeon of the bunker. Sam and Jack were at his side immediately, and Sam put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? Did you find Dean?”

Cas was about to answer when Dean’s eyes shot open, now filled with the white-blue glow of grace. Dean’s body seized up, and the shout that followed was somehow both Michael’s and his at once. The pure power emanating from Dean’s body was enough to make everyone in the room shrink back slightly. Even Rowena, arms extended in his direction and poised to strike with a spell, recoiled slightly as he thrashed against the restraints. She quickly recovered, however, and began to chant again, in the same strange mixture of Latin and Enochian.

“Dean!” Cas said, and got to his feet. He needed to get to Dean, to touch him, to ground him. He probably would have walked right into the holy fire if not for Sam, who grabbed his arm and held him back.

Dean’s body stilled, then straightened up, suddenly inhabited by Michael’s posture. “You know, it’s too bad,” he said. His voice was Dean’s, and yet so much colder. “If only you’d had the time to go through a few more of those doors...”

Sam, who still held Cas by the arm, seemed to have already lost hope entirely. He watched his brother with an expression that spoke more of mourning than suspense. Rowena continued her spellwork, but Cas could see that she, too, was losing confidence. Her voice wavered, her hands were unsteady. Jack looked at Michael with as much contempt as Cas had ever seen from him. “Let him go,” Jack said, and Michael laughed.

Cas couldn’t tear his gaze from Dean’s face, desperately searching for any sign of him, any deviation from the eerie glow of Michael’s grace in his eyes. “Dean,” he said, “You can fight him.”

Sam still looked utterly hopeless, but he said, “I’m here, Dean.”

Jack joined in. “We’re all here. We’re not going to let him go.”

Rowena’s spell came to an end, punctuated with one final flick of her wrists in Michael’s direction. The angel cuffs glowed white, and Cas winced as Dean’s wrists began to sizzle and burn. Michael roared in pain and shut his eyes. “Now, Dean!” Rowena shouted. “He’ll be at his weakest now!”

Michael thrashed, eyes opening again for a brief second, just long enough for Cas to see that they were now _Dean’s _eyes. Dean’s head tipped back, and grace erupted from his mouth and up through the ceiling as Michael was forced out. Sam made a strange sound, a choked sort of half-laugh in relief and surprise. Rowena dropped her arms with a satisfied smile.__

When the last bit of grace had escaped, Dean’s head fell to his chest. After a moment he looked up, panting, his shirt soaked in sweat. He looked as surprised as any of them that he was back (except perhaps Rowena, who mostly looked smug), but Dean said nothing. He just sighed and looked up at the scorched ceiling where Michael’s grace had exited.

“Where is he?” Jack said. “Dead?”

“No,” Cas said. “He won’t be dead. But he can’t return to Dean now, not without consent.”

Dean finally spoke, his voice straining with exhaustion. “Will someone let me out of here?”

Rowena snapped her fingers to extinguish the holy fire, which made a hissing sound as it dissipated. Sam went to Dean, removed the key to the angel cuffs from his pocket, and hesitantly unlocked them. Dean grimaced as they were removed; Cas could see the scorched ring of flesh around his wrists. Cas stepped forward and gave Dean a sympathetic touch on the shoulder before pulling out his angel blade to remove the cable ties. He started with Dean’s left wrist, and cut each tie carefully, the blade slicing through with no resistance. When Dean was completely free, Sam helped him stand up and walk to the door. One arm was slung over Sam’s shoulder to support his weight.

Jack and Cas each stayed where they were. Perhaps Jack did so out of shock, but Cas was all too cognizant of how exhausted Dean must be, and how little he enjoyed being fussed over. As much as he wanted to go to Dean, embrace him, tell him how proud he was, he knew that Dean would need space. As a way to release some of his overwhelming relief, he pulled Jack into a hug. Jack leaned into the embrace and ducked his head against Cas’ chest. “He did it,” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, he did.”

“Certainly not on his own,” Rowena added. She was already cleaning up her workspace, packing her belongings away into her bag.

Cas rolled his eyes at her comment, but Jack pulled back from the hug to face her. “Thank you, Rowena,” he said. “You saved me, and now you saved Dean. You’re a very talented witch.”

Rowena’s haughty demeanor softened slightly at his words. This seemed to happen often with Jack – he drew out a very human, almost tender side of Rowena, and she didn’t quite seem to know what to do with his warmth, his sincerity. “Yes, well,” she said. “Thank you, dear.”

Jack turned back to Cas. “Michael’s still out there,” he said. “What do we do now?” 

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I’m sure he’ll try to find another vessel, now that he knows Dean is capable of forcing him out. Until we know his next move, I suppose we should just wait. Allow Dean to recover.”

“Should we go see him?”

Cas shook his head. “Give him a few hours, at least. Sam will take good care of him.”

Jack nodded and left the room, leaving Cas and Rowena alone.

Now that Jack had gone, Cas let himself relax a bit more. He let out a shaky sigh and rubbed a hand across his face. It was a particularly exhausting part of being a parent, always wanting to appear brave, and wise, and steady.

“They’ve both won against archangels now?” Rowena said. She waved a hand over her spell bowl, and the slimy contents vanished.

“Yes.”

“They’re quite remarkable, the pair of them,” she continued. “The absolute bane of my existence, but remarkable.”

“Yes,” Cas said again. “Sam and Dean are remarkable in many ways. But humans as a whole, I think, are more powerful than angels realize. It’s like you said before, angels underestimate everyone but themselves. They can be foolish in their pride.”

Rowena smiled. “You speak of angels as though you’re not one of them.”

Foolish and prideful, Cas thought, would be an apt description of himself. But he suspected he would be that way with or without his grace. “In many ways, I’m not.”

***

  
It was just past midnight when Cas heard the TV turn on in Dean’s room. Dean had been asleep for almost eight hours, and Cas had forced himself to stay away until he knew for sure that he was awake. Cas tiptoed down the hall, careful not to wake Sam and Jack, who had both gone to sleep around ten o’clock. He gently knocked three times on Dean’s door.

“Yeah?” Dean answered.

Cas opened the door just a crack, and saw Dean lying back on the bed, still fully clothed, remote in hand.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean said, and sat up to lean against the headboard. “You gonna come in?”

Cas pushed the door open all the way, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. Dean lowered the volume of the TV to almost zero, and the laugh track of the sitcom he had been watching faded. He patted the other side of the bed, and Cas sat down. “How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Like shit,” he said, and weakly attempted a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Nah,” Dean said, and set the remote down on his nightstand. Cas hoped he wasn’t mistaken, but he took this as an invitation to stay a while. He kicked his shoes off and mirrored Dean’s position, leaning back against the wooden headboard. 

“Besides,” Dean continued, “you did enough already. You’re the one who fished me out of there. Still don’t know how you did it.”

“You did it yourself, Dean,” Cas said. “I was just there for moral support.”

“Sam said you almost killed yourself trying to force Michael down. That’s more than moral support.”

Clearly Cas hadn’t hid his exhaustion as well as he’d hoped. “I knew it would be difficult. Besides, my grace will be replenished after a few days.”

“Yeah, well, take it easy,” Dean said. “No heavy lifting.”

Dean had been telling him to ‘take it easy’ a lot lately. Years ago, Cas would have found this deeply irritating, but now it was mostly endearing. He glanced down at Dean’s wrists, which were wrapped in bandages. “The cuffs burned you,” he said. “Can I at least heal you?”

“Nope. Not until you’re back at a hundred percent.”

Cas almost healed him anyway, but given what Dean had been through in the past day, he let it go. 

“I didn’t get to ask before I passed out,” Dean said. “Is Garth okay?”

“He’s stable, in one of the guest rooms. Sam and Rowena are working to find a reversal for what Michael did to him. In the meantime, we’ll have to keep him sedated.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. The guilt hanging over him was palpable, and Cas knew exactly what he was thinking – they had sent Garth on this mission, and he had ended up hurt, separated from his family. Cas was about to assure him that it wasn’t his fault, but Dean spoke first. “Sorry you had to see all of that, in my head. Especially purgatory. That, uh, wasn’t a good time for either of us.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. We got you out, that’s all that matters.” Still, a question burned on his tongue. He almost choked it down, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Although… right before Michael left, he said… something about going through more doors. What was in there that he wanted me to see?”

Dean didn’t look at him. Cas could see how uncomfortable he was, and backed off immediately. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to – ”

“No, Cas, it’s okay. I just…” Dean shifted his position on the bed, turning to face him. “Once we got back here, I started to remember... When Michael had me the first time, before he locked me away completely, I was aware of what was happening. It was like I was running from him inside my own head, but he could control where I ended up. And sometimes I would end up inside bad memories, like hell, or losing Sam, or losing you. He would put me in those hallways, and no matter what door I picked it was something bad. But I just kept going, trying to get out. I think it was too much work for him. So when he possessed me again, he put me somewhere else, where I wouldn’t remember what was happening. I think when we got back to that hallway, when he started to wake up...”

“He wanted me to see how he was hurting you,” Cas said, a dark rage stirring in his chest. “I swear to you, Dean, when we find him, I will – ”

“I know. I wanna kill him, too.”

They were both silent for a moment. “How’s Jack?” Dean asked, probably to get the attention off of himself.

“He’s fine,” Cas said. “Relieved, like all of us. I did my best to put on a brave face throughout the whole ordeal, but I think he could see through the facade.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you weren’t so confident about me beating Michael after all.” 

“I had faith in you Dean. I always do,” Cas said, and a light blush rose to Dean’s face at the words. “But I was still afraid. You are…” He paused, hesitating. “You are more important to me than I can say.”

Dean stared at him with his lips slightly parted, and there was that look again, of composed reverence. Still, it surprised Cas when Dean reached across the space between them to carefully cup his hand around Cas’ neck. Dean’s thumb slipped below his ear, slid down to trace his jaw. Dean leaned forward just an inch, gauging Cas’ reaction, gaze shifting between his eyes and his mouth. When Cas started to lean in, too, Dean rushed forward and kissed him.

It was gentle, just the press of Dean’s lips against his, but with unmistakable fire behind it. Cas let out a startled groan, and Dean pulled back as though bracing for rejection. But Cas had other plans, and simply fisted his hand in Dean’s shirt to pull Dean down on top of him. They kissed again, and he could feel Dean’s slight smile against his mouth. But the satisfied flutter in Cas’ chest gave way to fear. Was this happiness? Would the Empty come for him now?

Dean seemed to sense the change, and broke away. “What? Do you not – ”

“I want to, Dean, more than anything. But there’s something you have to know.”

Dean sighed. “You made a deal,” he said flatly, and sat up again. “You and Jack have been acting cagey all week.”

“You knew?”

“I wasn’t positive,” Dean said. “But I took a guess. Looks like I was right.” He sounded upset, disappointed, but not necessarily angry. “I would’ve done the same thing,” he added after a moment. “For Jack. He’s our kid.” 

Cas didn’t know what to say.

“How long do you have?”

“The Empty said it would take me when I’m happy. That’s why I can’t…”

Dean nodded. “We’ll figure it out,” he said simply. “We’ll find a way to break the deal. And not just because I wanna do more of… that,” he added awkwardly, and gestured vaguely to Cas’ face. “I need you around, Cas. We all do.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t know that we can find a way out of this. The Empty is older than God, perhaps older than time itself.”

“Jack was strong enough to wake you up from the Empty when he had his powers,” Dean pointed out. “Maybe if he gets juiced up again, he can kill it.”

Cas remained unconvinced. “I suppose that could work. But Dean, as much as I want to stay here, if we can’t find another way… I need you to let me go through with the deal. I don’t want anything to happen to Jack.” 

Dean looked absolutely miserable, but didn’t argue.

“I’ll do my best to be unhappy,” Cas added. “Until we find another solution.”

“You’re pretty good at brooding. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Cas tried and failed to suppress a smile at Dean’s quip. He put his hand on Dean’s, but didn’t thread their fingers together, despite his overwhelming desire to do so. He had to leave, remove himself from the temptation. “I should go,” he said. “I’ll let you get some more rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, maybe to ask Cas to stay. But he seemed to think better of it, and just said, “G’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean. I hope you feel better.”

He closed Dean’s door on his way out. The muffled murmur of the TV started up again, and Cas’ hand lingered on the doorknob for just a moment. It felt strange to say the least, to kiss Dean and then just say goodnight, like nothing had changed. He wanted so badly to be on the other side of that door, in Dean’s bed, beside him, and it was all within reach now. But he would have to wait.

He let go of the doorknob and walked back to his room. He had loved Dean for years. He would wait for as long as he had to.


End file.
